Another Angel In Heaven
Illustration Friday

Don’t Wake Me Up Unless Publishers Clearing House Calls…Then, Put Them Right Through!

Throughout history, people have searched for "the meaning" of dreams.  Experts say that almost all of us dream and -- even though perhaps you're one of those people who rarely remembers your dreams -- if you were to be awakened during the deepest of sleeps (R.E.M. - rapid eye movement) then, chances are pretty good that you will at least know that...you were dreaming.

I, on the other hand, have no problem remembering my dreams.  In fact, not only do I dream in vivid colors, I often times wake up and can still sense tastes, smells, etc...  Sometimes, I know that I am dreaming and wake myself up when I don't like how...you know...how the dream is playing out...and can even go back to sleep and "finish a dream."

This is where my husband would take to calling me, "Abby Normal."  

In my dreams, I visit people, places and do things that perhaps would be out of the ordinary or, at the very least, uncharacteristic -- this is normal.

Some dreams I have often and these are called "reoccurring dreams."  Interestingly enough, it's these so-called reoccurring dreams that tend to be a little freaky...even for me.

There's one in particular from my childhood that comes to mind and haunts me still.  One that wakes me in the middle of the night, shaking and shivering in a cold sweat, and makes me feel as if I were going to vomit all over my poor, unsuspecting, snoring husband.

And I thought I was bad -- you should hear what my children dream about -- my children have fought evil trolls, bug-eyed lunatics and typically end their dreams by being ingested by an insect of some sort...hiding inside our toilet bowl?

Whenever my children wake from a nightmare, I try to get them to tell me (with as much detail as possible) about the dream and insist that, "Once you talk about a bad dream, it loses its power and can't come back!"

It's a rule.

Well, in my house, anyway...and it usually works...until this passed Monday, when Thing Two screamed my husband and I out of our sleep and off of the couch in a matter of...well...I don't remember knocking over the chair, or the lamp, getting to the girls' room.

Nightmare?

Yep, it was a doosie.

Then, last night, Little Man hollered for his Dad and ended up in our bed after a run-in with a nasty old git of a goblin and, as he fought the dog and two cats for a corner of our comforter, I decided to give up my spot (read: kicked out of bed) and headed downstairs to cozy up with one of my girls.

Mini-Me moves too much, there's not enough room in Thing One's bed, so I tossed about a dozen stuffed beasts to the floor and curled myself around Thing Two.

She snores, but I'm used to that.

SCREAM!

Now what?

No, it wasn't Thing Two (she was still fast asleep next to me) or Mini-Me (she turned and was apparently still a bit gassy from dinner) but, Thing One who sat up like a shot and stared at me as if I...well...it was a doosie.

Phew.

After a hectic week and an even busier weekend of work, baseball games, sleepovers, helping my SIL pack and the four kids waking us up in the middle of the night...I believe the hubs and I have had...um...like, maybe twelve hours of sleep...since Monday.

Man, are we tired and looking a wee bit ragged, I must say.   

But, as most parents know, that's normal. 

I tucked Thing One back into bed, covered Mini-Me and had just slid back into bed with Thing Two, when she started to mumble in her sleep.

"Mmm...kay...off...shhhh...su...kay."

I swept some of her bangs from her eyes and gently stroked her arm.
"Shhh, baby...it's okay...Mama's here."

We cuddled and I put my ear closer to her lips and tried to decypher Thing Two's dream.
"Mom...shhh...sh*tty...supper...sucked...tasted like fart...tomorrow...Kentucky...Fried...Chicken...'kay!?!"

Why you little...
"Gotcha!"

[eyes go wide]

She scared the buh-jeeze-us out of me!

And could you blame me for hollering, after having banged my head on the wall, before startling the cat and digging his claws deep into my left thigh, making the dog bark and Thing Two cry, who frightened Thing One and screamed, and that's what made Mini-Me fall out of bed and hit her head...in a house...where Abby Normal lives.

Got any room at your place, tonight?

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